Adventures In The Life Of Miranna Baratheon, The True Born Heir
by Spider-Parker12
Summary: As the daughter of the King, Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, Miranna Baratheon is mesmerised by the cool everlasting winter of the North and is sad when she has to leave. When an opportunity presents itself to her, she takes it, wishing to be free of dresses and lady-like practices. The title of her house have no weight any longer, when she catches word of what is happening
1. Chapter 1

"Mother, why can't I ride my horse?" Miranna mumbled incoherently. "Why must I stay in the wheelhouse whilst we enter Winterfell?"

"Because my sweet. Images must be kept. Even with these northerners." Cersei responded with a proud smile.

Miranna was used to the little jests at the northerners as well as the small lessons she would be taught about being a lady. "But as you said mother, they're just northerners." She said. "Why does it matter?"

"Because daughter," Cersei continued, "People talk."

"But I'll be lady-like." Miranna said. "I vow it."

"How can you make riding a horse lady-like?" Cersei quirked and amused eyebrow.

"Well… I'm not sure." Miranna replied, downtrodden and quite sad. "Sorry mother."

Miranna wished she had been able to ride into the castle on her mare with a bright smile, like the knights in stories, but according to her mother, anything a man does cannot be lady-like.

"It's alright child. Just remember to smile." Cersei put her hand under Miranna's chin and lifted it, waiting for her to put on the bright smile she used when at the tourneys her father arranged.

Miranna was staring into Cersei's eyes, emerald green clashing with stormy blue. Miranna held almost no viable features in common with her mother, other than her cheekbones and lips. The rest was almost symmetrical to her fathers. Black hair that was so curly that it took her hand maidens almost an hour to tame into a simple braid as well as her blue eyes. She was the exact opposite of her twin brother, Joffrey, how took after their mother. From the thick eyelashes to the deep green irises. It seemed almost impossible for them to be from the same womb, as all the rest of Miranna's siblings also took after their mother, with not a single trace of their father in them.

Miranna was quick to delve into a conversation with her younger brother, Tommen, about how excited they were to get to Winterfell. Tommen spoke about odds and ends, and Miranna followed along as best she could, as Tommen and Myrcella, her sister, were the only form of entertainment she had in the rattling wheelhouse. They had been traveling north for so long that Miranna lost count on day four. They had been on the Kingsroad, stopping at inns and on the side of the road. Everyone was weary from the trip and the sight of Winterfell was almost as if the Old Gods and the new had answered all their prayers.

For a majority of the trip, Miranna had ridden her mare, Wildfire, next to her two uncles, Tyrion and Jaime. Jaime was kind to her, but for some reason, she felt as if he was uncomfortable around her. As for Tyrion, he would make jokes and snide comments about the people around them, making her snicker and giggle and sometimes even snort.

Miranna was quite short, even for a girl of two and ten. She was slender and had no muscle what so ever on her bones. She wore a thick woollen dress that matched the colour of her eyes and a cloak with a coarse, white fox pelt, braid coming over her shoulder, resting on the pelt and landing just above her waist.

Her hair was one of her favourite things about herself. "Do you think I could ride Wildfire tomorrow?" Miranna looked over to her mother, hopeful. "I'll behave. I'll even go with Sandor if it pleases you." Myrcella sat up straight.

"Mother you can't let her! I have to do sewing tomorrow morning and I don't want to be left alone!" She practically squealed. Disappointment painted Miranna's face as she saw Cersei nod at Myrcella and give her a stern look.

Miranna couldn't spit a word as the movement of the wheelhouse had halted. Miranna slipped behind Cersei silently. Miranna was often told by Cersei that she would be the death of her, as she was constantly silently tripping over something. It didn't help that she wore boots without heels, making it near impossible to know she was behind her.

As she stepped out of the wheelhouse, she caught the eyes of someone she couldn't quite see through the shoulders of the Stark family. She squeaked when her cloak got caught on the edge of the door on the wheelhouse, resulting in her to stumble over her own feet, and almost knock over Cersei. However, she caught herself in time to glimpse the smirks of amusement from those around her as well as Eddard Stark kneeling to kiss Cersei's ring and Robert squeezing the life out Catelyn Stark.

As soon as the children were introduced and formalities were completed, Robert had demanded of their host, "Take me down to your crypt Eddard. I would pay my respects."

Cersei had went to protest, as they had been riding for long enough for everyone's bones to be chilled and their eyes weary, but she didn't get much in before Robert gave her a look and Jaime had taken her by the arm.

Miranna looked on as her father and mother went off in their separate directions, not sparing the other a look. She wasn't blind to the obvious hate for each other that they had, but defiantly had not a lick of an idea of why. She had seen how they treated other over the year and could only wish when she was married off that her husband respected her enough to treat her properly. It was hard to find someone like that in this sort of time, she knew, but if worst came to worst she could always run off to Essos and become a merchant. Tyrion had told her once that she could make iron worth as much as gold with her cheekbones if she wished.

As of that moment though, she didn't need to sell iron, no, but an escort. Everyone who was important or familiar had vanished into thin air, including her siblings, making her resort to looking around hopelessly for someone who might know where her chambers were located. When she spotted a boy who appeared to be around her age, and the least intimidating.

"Excuse me. My name is Miranna. I was wondering if you might be able to point out where I might find someone who could show me to my chambers." She inquired stiffly. He looked down at her and did a once over. "Why're you asking me, My Lady?"

Miranna stared back at him confusedly and squinted her eyes slightly, completely ignoring the title he had given her. Why wouldn't she ask him? It's not like she had a large selection of other people to ask who didn't look like they could chop her arm of with a sweep of their gaze. They were almost as scary The Mountain, some even seemed to be as tall as him to.

"Well, why not?" She said. "You're about as good as any."

The boy snorted and seemed quietly humoured by her statement. This made her increasingly confused. What was that supposed to mean? Did she offend him? Was he a squire or even a steward, but she herself was completely unaware of his status or family name. She hoped she didn't offend him.

"If you knew my name you'd be saying otherwise." He didn't seem like much of a talker and so Miranna filled in the gaps that he made with words of her own. "Well, maybe if you told me this seemingly horrible name so I _can_ say otherwise. And anyway, you seem to know my name." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on one leg, waiting. "Jon, My Lady."

Miranna thought for a moment. "That doesn't seem very shameful." She said. "It's just as ordinary as any other."

"Jon Snow, My Lady. Bastard of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden in the North" The humour that once graced his eye a moment ago disappeared instantly. He was waiting, for what she wasn't sure. Maybe he was waiting for her to turn her nose up and disappear into the castle.

Finally when she had realised what he was waiting for, she raised her eyebrows. "Are you finished?" She asked. "Now, can you or can you not show me to my chambers? And if not, could you possibly find me someone who can?"

"Are you sure you want a bastard escorting you to your chambers, My Lady." His voice suddenly produced sound, and he looked her in the eyes. "I'm a disgrace."

"I would say no but it seems you're my only choice." She said "I suppose you'll have to do."

Shame covered his face and she giggled quietly. "Father was right about Northerners not having a very good sense of humor."


	2. Chapter 2

JON

He didn't know whether the wine had gotten to his head or not, however he knew that he couldn't remove his eyes from her. She was sat at the table with the various noble kids, far from him. She glanced around, searching for somebody, he assumed, when her eyes found his. She looked left just before standing and step by step advanced towards him. She appeared to be industrious on attempting to get him stuck in an unfortunate situation. Lady Stark would not be delighted in the smallest on the off chance that she investigated and discovered him chatting with the princess.

Something brushed against his leg and looked under the table to see his flawless white direwolf under the table, gazing apathetically at him. "Hungry again?" He gazed toward the table to find that a large portion of honeyed chicken. He was going to sever a leg, however had different considerations, and apprehended the entire winged creature, dropping it between his legs for his little companion to devour.

"I would have wagered you were feeding the do hounds that were about, yet I see I would have painfully lost." The entertain voice of none other than Miranna Baratheon called to him. She herself was wearing an obsidian hued dress with sleeves that adhered to her like a subsequent skin and a high lace neck-line. Looking out from under the dress were a couple of small heeled slippers, yet judging from the manner in which she awkwardly moved when walking, regardless they caused her torment. "May I sit?" It rose as uncertain and Jon urgently needed to state no, yet he ended up reluctantly nodding 'yes'. All the smoke in the room had made his eyes water, and his he raised his palms to rub them. With hazy eyes, he went after his cup of wine and took another drink.

A snarl emanated from under the table and Jon looked under to see that one of the bitches had gotten the aroma of the chicken and was yapping at Ghost. The dark mutt with long yellow eyes yapped at Ghost once more until Ghost stood and bared his teeth at her, causing the bitch to have apprehensions and walked off, leaving Ghost to keep devouring the remains in serenity.

"He's very charming. Unnerving. However delightful." Jon took a gander at Miranna like she had a bolt through her head before laughing discreetly. He'd heard others discussing how they were wild monsters, yet not one had said anything close as gullible as that. "Does he have a name?"

"Ghost." Came his short answer. He felt at fault for not saying more and she appeared to see his absence of talk too. "Appears to be fitting. Superior to anything I would have thought of. I would've named him cloth." At that Jon smiled. He delighted in this young lady tremendously more than her twin sibling, who Jon however thought was a privilege and royal prick. Miranna appeared to be the definite opposite of Joffrey. Other than the elegant characteristics of course.

Jon looked at his cup and afterward back at Miranna, to see she was gazing at the cup of wine too. "Would you like some?" She gazed wide peered toward, mouth hung open idiotically. "Goodness, well, yes, however it's yours." Jon drove the cup over to her and she began shaking her head until she saw him swipe the cup from the squire close to him. "Are you certain it's okay?" Jon just gestured and nearly burst into an attack of intoxicated snickers as she downed the cup of wine and poured another and brought down that on as well. "Try not to drink excessively, My Lady." He chastised, however it wasn't well thought out as he hiccupped and smiled immature. "You should quit calling me that."

"Calling you what." She rolled her eyes and stated, "My Lady. In addition to the fact that it is infuriating it's not by any means my correct title." Jon gazed dope like at her for a minute, not understanding what she implied. "A lady of honourable birth is known as a Lady."

"But on the off chance that they're a princess."

Jon took a swallow of air. Truth is stranger than fiction. She was Miranna Baratheon. Girl of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. How might he have missed something so trifling? "My apologies, princess." Miranna unmistakably scowled. "It's fine. But don't call me that either. My title has no significance."

"Then what do I call you?"

"By my name of course."

It wasn't long after that when Miranna pardoned herself, in all probability because of her unclear thinking, taking a full cup of wine with her. She was heavily swaying and her cheeks were stained red, yet Jon let her go. What was the purpose of pursuing a drunken princess if all he got has a glare from Lady Stark?

* * *

Miranna

Miranna felt like her head was going to part in two and douse the ground with her blood.

The only thing she recollected about the prior night was that she had swiped a flask of summerwine from a close by table and withdrew to her chambers. What occurred after that was a puzzle yet for reasons unknown she had woken up the following morning under the hides of her bed. She could have sworn she had nodded off on the floor, however of course, the cool stone could have been the cloudiness of the wine over her eyes.

On her right was Arya Stark and on the left was a gathering of snickering banshees. Their babble made Miranna need to pry her own head open. She was simply happy that Septa Mordane had taken to respecting Myrcella's needle work and not hers. The lines were warped and what should be little fowls wound up looking progressively like a knot with three stick legs.

"What do you think of Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?" Miranna got the finish of what Sansa was stating and agreed. Her brother was as charming as they come.

"Jon says he looks like a girl." Arya stated, and Miranna used each ounce of her will to not snicker, however futile as a little and un-polite grunt sounded, making Arya grin and the other peer at her, stunned.

It didn't take long for kind and beguiling Sansa to recuperate and murmur, answering with a fast, "Poor Jon. He gets jealous because he's a bastard"

"He's our brother." Miranna flinched at Arya's words, not because of the heaviness of them, but the volume that made her ears ache in protest. The hard essence of Septa Mordane gobbled up to scowl at them as though her face was cut to do as such. "What are you talking about, children?"

"Our half-brother," Sansa murmured softy, correcting Arya before answering with, "Arya and I were remarking on how pleased we are to have the princesses with us today."

Miranna was nearly at her limit when Septa had asked Arya to introduce her lines. Frenzy coursed through Miranna and she flipped around her lines, concealing the monstrosity from the Septa's vision. "Arya. Arya. Arya. This will not do. This will not do at all."

The shriek of Arya's seat was sufficient to make Miranna quit disentangling the back of her lines and turn upward. At the entryway with small tears sliding down her face with Septa shouting after her was Arya.

"By your leave, My Lady." Myrcella was uncertain yet Miranna nodded firmly. There was a scornful remark from Arya and a 'humph' from Septa. Miranna gazed at the entryway, looking after her before standing, not bothering to address Septa and pursued Arya, who she could her the strides of at the base of the stairs. Her head was at that point screaming but she went along anyway.


End file.
